Across the Sea
by The.Mad.Shadow
Summary: Starting with Will and Elizabeth's wedding night and continuing from there. Please READ and REVIEW.
1. Beginnings and Ending

DISCLAIMER:: CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF, PotC AND ALL OF ITS CHARACTERS ARE NOT IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN. I ONLY OWN WHAT I WRITE. NOT WILL OR ELIZABETH. OR ANY OTHER PotC CHARACTER. OR THE ODD LINE THAT I THROW IN.

Chapter One :: Beginnings and Endings

Elizabeth Turner approached Will. This was what she had dreamed of since she had been old enough to know what happened on a wedding night. Sure, it was on a beach at sunset instead of on a big bed, but she wanted this. She knew Will wanted this too. His eyes glowed with a firey passion that had not been there before. He ran to her, touching his lips to hers. She undid her sword belt and let it drop, eager to keep her mouth locked with his. He fumbled with his belt, so her hands reached out to help him. Too late she realized it was a trick, meant to bring her closer to him.

Will moved his hands, the belt falling, and she touched the place where his clothes covered his very male spot. It pushed her fingers back as it hardened and elongated. Then he was dragging her behind a rock, smothering her with kisses. He pulled his pants down as she pulled her dress up, exposing herself to him. She broke away from their kiss, needing to say what was on her mind before she was lost in passion.

"Will," she breathed, "I love you."

"I love you too Elizabeth."

He brought his mouth back to hers, this time pushing his tongue between her lips. They lay on the sand, unaware of anything but each other. A moment passed, then another. Elizabeth thought that she would die of need if they did not do what they had set out for. She moved her hand, exploring his chest, which was heavily muscled from all of his years as a blacksmith's apprentice. He shivered, his male part getting harder still, and pulled down his underclothes. She undid the ties to her breeches, and was lost to the world of her fantasies.

Will slid into her the way a sword would slide into a well-made scabbard. She shivered with the intensity of her feelings and laughed. She was free. Free to do what she pleased with Will. Free from the scrutiny of society, from the burden she had born since the day she had realized her love. They rolled in the sand, their bodies intertwined. Then he was on top, and moving. Up, down, up, down. With each thrust, she felt more alive.

She felt something else inside of her, like a liquid that was moving farther inside of her. She knew not what it was, and suddenly Will went limp. He pulled out and they just lay there, her not understanding, and him with a look of understanding too much. She had been only a baby when her mother had died, and so she had never learned about any of the finer parts of a wedding night, aside from the fact that there was sex.

Will stood, looking at the sky.

"Nearly sunset." He commented, still not looking at her.

"Does this mean goodbye?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"This means goodbye Elizabeth. Mrs. Turner. My wife."

"No!"

She grabbed one of his boots, moving away from him. He was already starting to fix his clothes. Why wasn't he looking at her? It was the last they would see of each other for ten years, and yet, he acted as if he didn't care. He cast a shadow over her as he approached, fully clothed except for the article she was holding.

"I'm going to need the other one."

She didn't want him to leave, not yet, not now. Instead of giving it to him, she put his boot on and knelt on a rock. She was going to make him work for it. He came forward and bent down, kissing up her leg as he removed the boot.

"Look for the green flash." He said, and then he was gone.


	2. Sunsets and Upsets

Chapter Two :: Sunsets and Upsets

The sky over the cliff was brilliantly shaded with streaks of orange, red, and yellow. Elizabeth always came here at this time of day, hoping against hope that she might see a sign of her husband. It had been nearly a month since the attack on the pirate fleet. _A month since Will's death. _Thinkingabout it only made it hurt more, like salt poured on an open wound.

Soon after that fateful battle, she had discovered that being pirate king had a large amount of privilege attached: in every town where the crooked folk outnumbered those who obeyed the law, she was granted free room and board. She had roamed the land of the Caribbean, her feet raw and sore with blisters, until, at last, she had found a quiet place to seek refuge.

The sky was turning dark now, its color rushing away, as though the devil himself were chasing it. She sighed and turned back, heading inland. Another evening had faded away, and another night had come to test her. She wished it were not so, that she had some manner of seeing or hearing from Will.

A light glimmered in her cottage window, though she had lit none before she had gone to the cliff. From inside came the clanking of bottles being moved around. She had a trespasser on her hands. Quietly she looked around for something that she could use as a weapon. There! She spotted a piece of firewood. It would have to do. She held her breath, for fear that it would alert the intruder to her presence, and crept toward her humble abode.

The door was open, though by now she knew that there was most definitely someone inside. The person was taking no trouble to keep their noise down, and she distinctly heard the thunk of a mug being set down. She walked in, and immediately dropped her bludgeon.

"Jack!" She cried, running.

Sitting at the table that she had pushed up against the kitchen wall was none other than Captain Jack Sparow.

"Elizabeth… darling! It's been too long."

"Clearly, if you thought you could get away with breaking into my home." She said, sitting.

"Eh… You always did have a way with a sword." He eyed her suspiciously, evidently checking to make sure that she did not have the aforementioned weapon in her possession.

"I see you've found the rum." She remarked.

"Why yes, so it seems I have!" He exclaimed in mock surprise, "A man can't ever have too much rum, now can he?"

"Well that depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On whether or not he has a moral compass. Which clearly you do not."

"Awful thing to have really, morality. Really gets in the way of a man's ability to pillage and plunder."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Well," he stood, wobbling slightly, "it's been lovely chatting with you, but I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome."

"What welcome?"

"Precisely my point. So if you'll excuse me, I'll be…" He tried to walk, but stumbled and fell, hitting his head on the table as he stood up.

"Why don't you stay here for the night, Jack? I've no mind to send you out into the world when you might injure someone in your stupidity, and there's a spare bed in the next room."

"If you insist." She dragged him out of the kitchen and into a small room that she had always assumed to belong to a maid. It was the perfect for Jack to sleep off his drink. She pushed him onto the pile of blankets that she kept in there, silently reminding herself to wash them before she used them next, and shut the door. She heard muffled complaints, and a couple of thuds, and then, nothing. Smiling to herself, she changed into her nightgown, ready for another night to be over and bring her one day closer to seeing Will again.

Elizabeth awoke the next morning not to the sounds of Jack rising, but rather to seasickness.

_She was back on the Pearl, pirates groping at her, throwing her all around, their filthy bodies filling her nose with a stench that made her want to wretch. The unsteady rocking of the boat as it sailed out into the open sea made her stomach heave with each wave. The combination was not in the least bit pleasant._

But no, she reasoned, as she stumbled out of her bed and grabbed a pail, she couldn't be on the Pearl, she was on land! And then the nausea worsened and the only thing in her mind was the hope that everything in her stomach made it's into the bucket.

She wretched, she heaved, she choked. She coughed until nothing more came from her stomach. Warm hands that smelled of rum and pigs held her hair back. Jack had finally gotten up, and he was making himself useful. The smell from his hands was probably making her queasiness worse, but at least his heart was in the right place. And she knew that if she ever voiced that comment aloud to him he would vehemently deny it.

"Oh God, what did I do to deserve this?" She groaned, as another wave rolled hin and she hunched back over her pail.


End file.
